


Building Blocks

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem)



Series: Come With Me [11]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Burn Wounds, Complete, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Married Couple, Molestation, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem
Summary: Screaming. Ignoring it didn’t mean he couldn't hear it as he worked frantically and dispassionately. Jim’s screams, full-throated and deep as he tried to fight the medteam off. McCoy hadn't even taken any time to regen the black eye Jim had given him. It had taken three people, including Spock, to hold Jim down.





	Building Blocks

Building Blocks

Sarah Problem 

 

 

_The past is what provides us with the building blocks. Our job today is to create new buildings out of them._

\--Theodore Zeldin

 

 

Doctor Leonard McCoy strode angrily down the corridor from the lift to his cabin, fists clenched. He knew he must be red-faced with fury, and his black eye only added to his disheveled appearance. A few unfortunate crewmen who came upon him were startled enough to move quickly out of his way, all being smart enough to know not to test him. Not now. He was in no mood to be friendly, considerate or even humane. He was in a mood to hurt someone or something. Badly.

**{Screaming. Ignoring it didn’t mean he couldn't hear it as he worked frantically and dispassionately. Jim’s screams, full-throated and deep as he tried to fight the medteam off. McCoy hadn't even taken any time to regen the black eye Jim had given him. It had taken three people, including Spock, to hold Jim down.}**

_I can't believe they threw me out of the God damned Medbay! Damn them all to a Porgarian hell!_

The rational part of his mind knew he was overly tired, had low blood sugar from not eating much, and strung out from worry for three days. But it was only the anger that kept him on his feet, able to make it to his cabin without collapsing.

**{The smell of burnt and dying flesh mixed with alien odors filling the Medbay as McCoy's whole department worked on the two crewmen. Six had gone down to the planet. Five had returned alive, two of them with severe chemical burns. One of the two victims had only lasted two hours.  Reynolds had been the least damaged of the two accident survivors and had coded on them. McCoy and M'Benga had not been able to bring him back.}**

_God damned assholes! I should never have trusted any of them. They all should have had my back! Turncoats! Traitors!_

McCoy stormed into his cabin... their cabin... and wished he could violently slam the damned door behind him. He wished there was something he could throw or break. But what?

**{The angry flicker of the pain monitors as the readings jumped and pulsed like an inrushing tide. Rising up to signal intolerable levels, even when full sedation had been administered. Knowing that internally, the screaming continued inside the tortured minds. Then, just one mind left to try to save.}**

_Every damned thing in here either unbreakable or too important!_

He could only pace. The adrenaline of anger kept him pacing the length of their living area, when he should have been eating something, then heading straight for bed and passing out. Which is what he _knew_ he should do. But it wasn't going to happen. He was a Doctor. He could block the fear and horror, so he could treat his patients. But he couldn't make what he had seen, heard, and felt go away. It was still all there, waiting for his defenses to go down.

**{Total life support and the isolation of the patient's brain the only answer. No signals in or out. No pain and no awareness of the outside world. Trapped in his own skull, Jim would dream. But there was no way to tell if they were happy, blissful dreams or never-ending night terrors. All the readings were off. They were missing something. He should be back there, finding out what it was.}**

_I'm not a God damned child! I've gone more than three days without sleep before! Just because Jim's on life support doesn't mean I can't do my damned job. What if he needs me? What if he codes again? What if the lab techs have another problem with the skin-jell cloning? I need to be there!_

He paced back and forth, nursing his anger. He knew that once it all burned off, he'd be left a hollow mess, unable to sleep as his brain struggled with the horrors collected over the last three days of uncertainty, fear, and failures.

A drugged sleep would be hard to shake off if things went south again. He _didn't_ want to be drugged.

_What if I respond just seconds too late? What if they couldn't keep Jim's brain disconnected from his body and he needs me? Why couldn't we find out why both crewmen were so resistant to the pain meds? Was it chemical? Mental? What am I missing? Am I out of my league on this?_

{ **Jim’s raw nerves and traumatized muscle strands exposed to view on large areas of his head, neck, shoulders, and hands once the dead flesh had been debrided. The slick shine of moist skull bone, shoulder blade, knots of vertebrae and blood vessels under protective, sterile, shields. Looking like a man who'd been skinned alive, he lay face down on the biobed. Like a corpse, partially dissected.}**

There was a chime at the door, startling him. McCoy turned and slapped the com button hard enough to hurt.

**{Not like Jim hurt. Not like the pain that kept him from even recognizing those around him as he'd fought them. As McCoy and the medteam struggled to contain his pain when the first sedatives failed to kick in, and then later as the alternative sedatives wore off with unexpected speed. As skin fell off of him in bits of dead tissue as he fought them when suddenly and unexpectedly awakening during the debriding procedure. And this time, the screaming horribly silent, as his abused and torn vocal cords had given out. But McCoy had heard it, none the less.}**

"Who the _fuck_ is it?" McCoy demanded through the comm. "Unless it's about my patients, _go the hell away!"_

"It is I, Doctor." Spock's calm voice replied.

"I'm _not_ in the mood, Spock. _Fuck off!"_

"Neither am I, Leonard," Spock said tightly. "Open the _fucking_ door."

Surprise at the response had McCoy hitting the entry button before he'd even realized it. He glared at Spock, who had apparently followed him from Medbay after his banishment.

"Did you just _cuss_? At **_me_** _?!”_  McCoy demanded with fury and astonishment. "You don't think that siding with M'Benga _against me_ is bad enough? You have to come _here_ and _harass_ me as well? Going to push your weight around as First Officer _again_?"

"I have just gone _off duty_ , Leonard," Spock said, striding into the cabin and turning to face McCoy as the door hissed shut behind him. Spock, blank-faced and under strict control, faced McCoy squarely. "You wanted to have words with me? Then _now_ is the time to have them."

" _Don't_ press your luck," McCoy hissed, turning to stride back and forth through the living area again. "I should deck you one! How _dare you_ side with M'Benga and ban me from the Medbay! Jim _needs_ \--"

"The Captain is now stable and in no pain," Spock said firmly. "The lab will not have the next test batch of skin-jell ready yet, and won't for another thirteen hours. You have eaten little and have had no rest since the accident. M'Benga was concerned that you were making yourself ill. I agreed with him and made the decision to ban you from Medbay for those thirteen hours. Otherwise, you will do yourself harm. You may spend them here, or in the brig, sleeping.”

"He's my **_husband_** _!"_ McCoy stomped up to Spock, stopping only inches from his face. Spock didn't waver or flinch. "I have a _right_ to be there!"

"Agreed. But not as you are. You have overtaxed yourself. As Acting Captain, I will not allow that."

Spock moved a fraction closer to McCoy, his eyes never leaving McCoy’s. "Do you wish to hit me, Leonard? I know you blame me for Jim's condition. After all, was I not there to protect him? Did I not _fail_?"

"I _should_ beat the living shit out of you!" McCoy spat, his fists clenched tightly and his body trembling. "You _knew_ how dangerous it was. It's why you went on the landing party with him in the first place. You were supposed to keep him _safe_!"

"Then hit me," Spock dared him. "I failed. This is your chance. Would it not make you feel better?"

"Make me feel better?" McCoy sputtered. Oh, how he wanted to.  

But reason called out to him, throwing the past back into his mind.

{ **The argument between the Captain, his CMO and First Officer over the assignment had not become heated until the end. Spock had sided with McCoy and his argument that the Captain should stay on board. Both shared a look of frustration when Jim talked through and around their concerns. They'd already sent down a probe that had malfunctioned. Once inside the cave where the signals that had gotten their attention had originated, the machine had just stopped working. They needed crewmen to find it, discover why it'd failed, and report back. They'd all be wearing Starfleet's best full-strength survival gear. Nothing from the planet's poisonous plants or its toxic atmosphere would touch them.**

**The signals of an intelligent lifeform were too important to ignore. Jim was going. He would not send his men down to a planet he would not go to himself. Even after Jim had announced that that was his final word on the matter, Spock had insisted that if it was safe for the Captain to go, then it was safe for the First Officer as well. Jim had finally relented on that point. But he would not relent on his order for McCoy to stay at his station. Just in case.}**

The logical part of him knew he was not himself. That he was wrong. That the anger was not for any one person.

_It's not Spock's fault. He tried. We both tried to stop Jim. And Spock and M'Benga are right, I'm falling apart. I can barely stand up._

_Hitting Spock wouldn’t make me feel better. It'd just be another thing that'd gone wrong on this total fuck-up of an assignment._

McCoy backed up, turning away from Spock. He looked down at his clenched, trembling hands. He sighed, feeling the anger ebbing and taking all his strength with it. Taking all his control as well.

"It... It wasn't your fault." McCoy said thickly to the wall in front of him. "I _don't_ really blame you. I just hate the whole fucking universe right now. Myself included."

"You no longer wish to hit me?" Spock asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

A wave of weariness flowed over McCoy, bringing with it a humorless chuckle along with the wetness in his eyes. His voice came out watery, and he avoided looking at Spock. "I'd... I'd just break my hand on you anyway. I need it for Jim..."

And on Jim's name he lost it. Sobbing as he leaned with both hands against the wall, the tears came. Behind him, he heard Spock open the door again. The sympathetic, feminine whisper of his name was his only warning before Uhura's warm arms circled his waist. He turned and hugged her close, burying his face in her hair and losing all control. He was vaguely aware, as he bawled like a baby, of Uhura and Spock steering him toward his couch. He practically fell into it and ended up with his head on a pillow on Uhura's lap. She rubbed his arm soothingly as he curled around himself and cried it out.

He didn't know how long he lay as Uhura muttered soothing words and Spock sat on a chair, watching him with concern as he sobbed. One of them had covered him with a blanket and McCoy realized he had no idea when that had happened. He felt relieved that he'd let it all go. But another, smaller part felt embarrassed that anyone had witnessed him cry.

Uhura ran her hand lightly through his hair. Her voice was soft and concerned. "You _are_ feeling better now, Len?"

"I feel like shit," he admitted, knowing he should move, but not wanting to. "You two planned this, didn't you?"

"Nyota felt that you needed the emotional release, or you would be too keyed up to eat or sleep. She conjectured that pushing your anger, until you either reacted violently or it burned out, would trigger such a release."

McCoy wiped at his eyes and sat up. He hated that his nose was running. Spock handed him a tissue while Uhura continued to rub his back.

"You'd actually let me hurt you?" McCoy wiped at his face and smirked.

Spock's eyebrow went up, and McCoy saw a tiny spark of amusement in his eyes. "I've seen you engage in hand to hand combat, Leonard. I very much doubt your blows would have been noticed, let alone caused any pain."

"God, _now_ he’s insulting my combat skills," McCoy said to Uhura with a crooked smile. “I should have hit him. Jim’s gonna rib me forever for missing my chance.”

Her smile was sympathetic. "Can you eat something?"

"No. Not now," McCoy said. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and dropped his face in his hands. "It'd just make me sick. I need sleep first but...I don't think I can.”

{ **Night terrors awaited him in the dark, without Jim there to save him from them. Jim, thrashing and screaming until his voice gave out.}**

"Doctor M'Benga can prescribe you something, right?" Uhura asked. "We could run down and bring it back to you."

McCoy just shrugged. "I guess he'll have to. But there are side effects to that kind of thing when the patient is exhausted and their system out of whack. They'd take time to work, and then to wear off. What if they need to call me back in?”

"There is the other option," Spock suggested. "The same meld I tried on Jim. I can trigger your brain's sleep response, and even block it from accessing current memories while you sleep. It would not be dreamless, but they would be dreams based on older information, not newer experiences."

Spock had tried the meld when the sedatives didn't work. When the pain relief didn't work. But he had not been able to contact Jim's mind. There was more than just the pain of his wounds keeping the sedatives from functioning in Jim's system as they should. Tests had not found the problem. Not after three days of fighting to treat Jim. Not even Reynold's and T'ssisk's autopsies had given them anything to work with.

_I know he doesn't like to mild meld if he doesn't have to. He really must think I'm pretty bad off. I guess I am._

"So, I wouldn't dream about anything after the accident?" It was tempting. "But, I won't forget anything, right?"

"No. The block would disappear when you wake up. It has no lasting power and will not keep you from having bad dreams the next time you sleep."

"Let him do it, Len," Uhura urged gently, getting up to get him a glass of water from the kitchen. "Then you'll be at your best for the next steps in his recovery."

"You’ll make _sure_ to wake me, if anything happens.” McCoy drank half of the water, eyes on Spock.

"Of course," Spock assured him.

Uhura pulled on his arm as he set the glass down, then she grabbed the blanket when he rose. "Come and lie down, Leonard, and let Spock help you. The whole ship will keep watch on Jim for you."

McCoy hesitated.

"Your ban from Medbay _will_ remain in effect, no matter how you spend the time," Spock said with certainty as he stood. "This will assure you the best rest available in that amount of time."

"You're both bullies, you know," McCoy said turned to walk to the bedroom. He sat down on his side of the bed and pulled off his shoes, then lay down under their watchful eyes.

"Just like you are, when you need to be," Uhura said with a smile, tossing the blanket back over him.

McCoy closed his eyes and tried to relax as Spock leaned over him and touched the mind meld points on his temple and cheek.

He barely felt Spock's mental presence before a calmness settled over him. In the last few seconds he struggled to throw a ‘ _Thank You’_ to Spock, along with an image of himself giving Uhura a kiss on the cheek in gratitude.

There was a brief, amused response from Spock, that he would gladly see to passing along the message.

Then he did drift off, no longer afraid of what hid in the darkness.

 

 

***

 

Carefully, Jim Kirk balanced on the small window ledge, making sure he had his angles right. The night was pitch black, with no moon. The sounds and lights from the house under him crept over the edge of the roof of the two-story house, outlining the edges between the safety of the old-fashioned shingles and a fall down to the crowded driveway and front yard below. Now, at twelve and a half, he had just had enough of a growth spurt to throw off his balance a bit.

A two-story fall would be bad. If anyone actually noticed. But he doubted anyone would, unless he fell on them.

He smiled at the thought. There certainly were some friends of his step-father's that he wouldn't mind taking out if he were to fall just right.

Taking another second to make sure he had it right, he let go of the shutter and jumped into total darkness. He either had it right or not. At least he had a short distance to try to grab something to stop him if he'd miss-judged and slid down and off the edge. Not that there was anything to grab this low on the old roof.

His old rubber-soled shoes landed squarely and clung to the rough texture of the old-fashioned shingles. But he wavered, throwing out his arms as counterweights as he regained his balance. It only took him a second to adjust his weight and stance, so that his feet were firmly planted.

_There! Sam was wrong. I'm too **smart** to fall off of a damned roof. As if he cared, anyway. _

Sam hated it when Jim climbed the roof, because Jim only tended to do it at night. Sam would cuss and fuss, and come and get him when he'd realized Jim had snuck out of his room again. But he never told Frank or their Mom.

_As if he'd tell Frank anyway. It'll just be another reason for him to hate us. Asshole._

And, sometimes, it wasn't just the stars he was after. Sometimes he _wanted_ Sam to come and get him. Now that Sam could drive and had more friends, further away, it seemed like Jim hardly saw him anymore.

And now he wouldn't see him at all.

Which meant that there was no one to come after him, to stop him from falling.

The climb to the top of the roof was uneventful, even though Jim couldn't really see where he was going. The further away he got from the edge and the sounds of the party inside, the more his eyes adjusted to the dark. The hard, loud, thumping music from Frank's usual three-day-weekend party wouldn't go away, but it would dim to a dull and pulsing background noise.

Reaching the ridge at the top, Jim crawled his way along it, reaching out to find the old heater vent. When he found it, he slid down between it and the wind turbine and into the blackness of the roof valley. The sudden stop at the bottom, where the porch roof jutted out, jolted him. The top of the porch wasn't wide, but it was flat enough to lie down on. It faced the back of the house, away from the new shipyards and the city, and most of the light pollution in the area.

Behind the house was a decent slice of old woodland, then the old city cemetery, and finally the fields. This time of year the backyard was wet, muddy, and filled with Frank's antique car parts. The ones he paid big money for, but never seemed to put together into anything he could drive or sell. The party in the house never overflowed to the back. Not when Frank kept the inside filled with booze, poker and whatever recreational drugs were all the rage.

But, mostly, there was the low horizon and the field of black above him. It wasn't the best view of the stars, but it was as good as he could get until he was finally able to drive away from Riverside and find a better place.

Jim found his spot in the dark and laid down on his back, his fingers laced under his head. He felt safe here, blended into the darkness. And he was lucky. There were few clouds to hide the universe above him. He could stay all night if he wanted to. Probably even half the day. Frank would be drunk all night and sleep all day, along with anyone who took a mind to sleep over. He might not even look for Jim until evening. If he looked at all.

"You know, that fall could break your neck."

Jim blinked, but didn't startle. Jim could barely see the silhouette of a kid his age sitting next to him. Of course McCoy was here. Where else would he be?

"Nah. I'd probably land on one of Frank's friends. Maybe break a bone. But I've done that before." Jim held up a hand in the dark, feeling confused. He could barely see it. "I mean, not yet. I will in a couple of years, when I try to jump off that old railroad bridge and hit that pole on the way down to the water. That's going to hurt. A lot. But Mom will yell at me over subspace a few weeks afterward, when she finally gets Frank's message. I think it's the only time I got to see her face that year. It'll be worth it."

McCoy huffed. "You do like jumping off of things."

Jim laughed. "It's kind of like flying. Don't you wish we could fly?"

McCoy scooted down a bit, then lay back. Jim could feel the warmth of his body as he settled next to him in the dark.

"People fly all the time," McCoy insisted.

"Duh. With help." Jim shook his head. "I mean, _really_ fly. Like the birds do. Like the Xendi and Skorr do."

"I think I'd like to stay on the ground," McCoy said. "Both feet. It's safer."

"And _boring_."

"Boring can be good. Besides, you'll get to fly a spaceship and all kinds of shuttles in the future. You'll even parachute." McCoy nudged him with an elbow. "That's close."

Jim smiled.

Just then the music blared as someone came out the back door. It was muted again as the door shut. Jim heard Frank's voice as he laughed and said something Jim couldn't make out. A feminine voice laughed, and Jim could hear the sounds of kissing.

"Fucking _bastard_ ," Jim murmured, the old anger flaring.

"That him?" McCoy asked.

"That's him."

"And that's...?"

" _Not_ my mother," Jim said tightly. "Now that Sam's gone, he's letting them move in for days at a time. It's what Frank and Sam argued about, before Sam left. That, and me."

Jim could hear McCoy take a deep breath. "Does... did your mother know?"

"Sam told her last year, when I was eleven," Jim said. He listened as Frank and his girl-of-the-night headed back into the house.

Jim shrugged in the darkness, eyes back on the stars. "Sam said she knew but didn't care. I didn't believe that, when he told me. But after I take off for good, when I'm seventeen, she divorces Frank. Rents out the house. I'll realize she'd just married him so she could have someone to leave her kids with. I don't think she ever cared what he did when she wasn't around. It's not like she came back to see him any more than she came to see us."

"That _sucks_ ," McCoy said with feeling.

"Tell me. I hate the parties, every weekend when it gets warm enough. All the strangers, constantly here. Mom sends money home and he spends it all on his friends, his car parts, and his parties. And I'm scared."

McCoy rolled over, and propped his head upon his hand. "Scared of what?"

Jim took a breath. _I can tell him. He'll understand._

"There's a couple of guys," Jim said quietly. "Frank's friends. They're over here a lot, and one of them, Jack, makes me feel uncomfortable."

"How?" McCoy asked with concern.

"I don't understand it now, but I will later," Jim said grimly. "He calls me a _'pretty boy'_ when no one else can hear him. And he stares at me. Gets too close. He's why, on nights when he's over or Frank's having a party, I push the dresser in front of my door before I go to bed. I know something's wrong with the way he looks at me, but I'm not sure how to explain it."

Jim could hear anger in McCoy's voice. "Did you ever tell Sam?"

"No. I should have. I could have. He wouldn't have left me here if he'd known. I didn't understand how dangerous it was."

McCoy moved closer and Jim felt him place his hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. His voice was low and sad. "Did he ever try to touch you?"

"When I am fourteen, he makes a move. I'm still small for my age, but I've had a growth spurt. Tries to corner me in the kitchen one morning, after he and Frank had been drinking all night."

Jim took a breath. The next part was the hardest to talk about. "I was looking for something to eat for breakfast. Before school. He came up behind me and pushed me into a corner. Still drunk or high. Called me a 'cock tease', grabbed my face in his hands kissed me. Hard."

McCoy's grip on his arm grew tighter. "God... Jim...."

"He was still dressed, but aroused. He ground his cock into me and then grabbed my ass. I bit the shit out of his tongue. He yelled and pushed back enough that I tried to shove him. God, it was like trying to shove a tree out of my way. I grabbed a pot off the counter and beaned him with it. He fell back. I thought at first I'd killed him."

"If you don't, I will," McCoy growled.

"I made it to the road and was running down the street when a neighbor saw me and pulled over. I was crying and had blood on my shirt. He took me into the police station and they got me calm enough to tell them what happened. They found him out cold and Frank still asleep."

"He do time?" McCoy asked hopefully.

"Some. And mandatory counseling," Jim said. "Bastard tried to call me a liar, but that didn't work so well with my teeth marks on his swollen tongue and his blood on my shirt."

McCoy huffed. "I'll bet. And Frank?"

"Called me a liar at the police station. At first," Jim said, the fear and anger of that scene filling him. "But he shut up when he realized there was proof on my shirt. He made like he was surprised and all contrite and shit. They kept my name out of the public forms. You have to have a court order to see the kid's name in his arrest records. Frank ordered me to keep my mouth shut about the whole thing, or everyone would be talking about the Kirk kid being a whore. They'd say I'd led Jack on. That he got entrapped by me."

"And you believe him?" McCoy asked.

"I was fourteen," Jim sighed. "I believe him. For a while. I don't know what he told Mom. She's mentioned 'that incident' once or twice, but she's never asked me about it. Eventually, the town found out. Jack quit his job when he got out, packed up and left. I think he told them all the same thing he tried to tell the police. I think most of the town believed him. Frank just hated me even more."

"Did you call Sam?"

"Grandpa T.K. had already died. Sam had taken off. No one knew where he was."

McCoy moved closer and threw an arm over Jim's chest. Jim moved his own arm so he could wrap it around McCoy's neck, pulling him close.

_It's nice, not to be alone. And I'm not. Not anymore. Years from now, Bones will be there. And all my friends. It all turns out okay._

"I'm sorry," McCoy said softly. "I wish I'd been there."

"You're here now, that's what counts."

"This isn't _now_ , though, is it?" McCoy said, sounding slightly confused. "Neither of us are twelve anymore. And you wouldn't already know what's going to happen. That and the fact I wasn't really here, in this time with you... this is wrong."

"And if you were, you'd be almost eighteen. Hooked up with Jacqueline and starting college already."

"So, where are we? Am I dreaming?"

"Maybe it's my dream," Jim said tiredly, watching the stars wink down on them both. "Don't know. But that's okay, as long as you're here too."

 

***

 

Doctor McCoy sighed as he watched Jim from outside the window of the operating room. The nurses were prepping him, again, for another try at the tissue replacement procedure.

Jim still looked like a corpse, with huge chunks of him missing. They had lasered off the rest of his head hair, and what was left of his left eyebrow and applied hair suppressant. Thank all the Gods the alien acid had miss his eye.

The left ear had melted off and a new cartilage form had been grown and was ready to be seated over what was left of his ear canal. McCoy had already repaired the slight damage there, and to his cheekbone and left temple. Whatever had happened, Jim had kept his face down which had spared most of his features. But what had hit him had dissolved the material in the survival suit, which the engineers and botanists were still studying, and had flowed down the left side of his head. The skin on the back of his head, down to his skull in places, shoulder, upper arms, hands and down his spine had mostly been removed.

_It's all repairable. The repair of burns has come a long way in the last couple of hundred years. And it could have been worse. He still has his eye._

Which meant a lot. Eyes were delicate, fickle things. Sometimes they could be repaired and sometimes they couldn't. The difference between saving one or needing prosthesis could be the difference in the survival of a cell or two.

_Windows to the soul. How easily they shatter._

They were still orbiting Kalon III. There was still the strange signal that Uhura had caught from afar. It had all the signs of intelligent life behind it. Life that was throwing out signals to space. Then there was the planet itself, covered in materials, chemicals and known toxins that should have stifled the development of life. But while it was no jungle, it was decently covered in strange plant life.

So, the Enterprise would be here for a long while, because strange things are what they were here for. The scientists on the ship, all of them in one way or another, were all having a field day trying to learn from this unlikely planet. Maybe even weeks of research were needed for Starfleet to decide if it needed a long-term orbiting research station or not.

_So here we are, parked for the duration. A good thing, I guess, as it'll give Jim a chance to recover before he gets his chair back. As Acting Captain, this is a prime chance for Spock to make sure that the Science Departments get a full crack at the place before we're made to move on._

If this had happened years ago, he would have suspected Spock of enjoying his new duties and responsibilities. At Jim's expense. But McCoy knew now, with complete certainty, that Spock's curiosity about the universe around him was tempered with his duty and his denied feelings about his crewmates. He would never choose to acquire knowledge at the price of someone's life, or their pain. Especially not Jim's. Whatever they discovered, whatever new knowledge they brought from this planet, would be done to help those in the future. And with that, McCoy could completely agree. This should never happen to anyone. Ever again.

And maybe they'd find something to help McCoy with his problem. His concern wasn't just the acid burns. His problem was the pain that came with it. It wasn't normal. Nor was the resistance to the sedatives or painkillers they'd used on Jim when he came in.

_We should have found the cause by now. Dead nerves don't transmit pain, but it's as though he's still receiving pain impulses from the dead zones. None of that was a natural reaction to the burns. At least, not once they'd both been given enough sedative to fell a Terran elephant. We'll need to have the medtechs scan him every second M'Benga and I work on him. If we've left even a hint of a cell of alien matter in or on him, I want to find it before we get to replacing skin. I'm not sealing anything alien and possibly deadly up inside him._

He felt Spock come up beside him.

"How long will the procedure of muscle replacement take?" Spock asked quietly. McCoy could hear the worry in it. He knew Spock was concerned with more than just the first procedure.

"Hours. Even if it goes well," McCoy admitted. "I won't know how it's going until I see if the jell sets correctly. We still don't know why the first batch went wrong. Then when it's down and layered, he'll need to be under the Cyrysium beams long enough to tell the cells they're supposed to be muscle tissue, and not internal organs, nerve endings, skin or hair. If things go well, we get the skin layer on in another twenty-four hours. Then it'll take a week or so for all the tissue to firm up, and connect to the edges of his original tissue. Then we'll have to test nerve impulses, and start therapy for the new muscle strands. He'll have to take it easy, or the old muscle will pull apart the new muscle strands if they're not matching in strength. Especially the shoulder and arm muscle. We'll be watching the hand muscles very, very closely. I don't want Jim to lose any dexterity."

"Total recovery time?"

McCoy took a moment to calculate it all.

"Best scenario, from this point? All the new tissue in place and set, eighty to ninety hours. Discharge home from medbay, five days after that. Light duty, from the cabin, the day he gets home, if he behaves himself. Sitting at the computer may be a problem for his back muscles for a few days. But he can handle an hour of work at his desk, now and again. As long as he doesn't type much, and the rest is verbal. Back on the bridge? For a few hours at first? About two weeks. For full recovery and back on full duty, I'd give it about thirty or more days. But this is _Jim_."

McCoy shrugged. "I'll probably be yelling at him to take it easy, and making angry entries in my log that he's pushing things too hard, in about two weeks. And if he's _really_ pushing it, I'll be giving you a call to back me up, even if I have to hog-tie him to a chair or have you neck-pinch him."

"Duly noted. You will find me very supportive in that matter," Spock said grimly. He glanced at McCoy. "How long until the brain-blocker can be removed?"

McCoy shook his head. "With all the problems we had keeping him under the first few days, I don't want to take the chance of taking him off the brain-blocker until the skin's in place and the nerves are firing correctly. He can't go through pain like that again. I won't let him."

"I agree, Doctor. He should be spared that as much as possible. Do you know why the pain seemed to be amplified to such a degree?"

"No."

"You are afraid, that once the brain-block is removed, the amplified pain impulses will return."

"Yes."

"Then we will double our research efforts in that area. The bits of alien matter you removed with the dead tissue are still being analyzed by my team as well as yours. We may be able to contain and beam up a sample of the original material, if our current research proves unproductive. I will send you a full report on whatever my team should find. Or fail to find, if that is the case."

McCoy nodded his thanks.

They were both quiet for a moment, just watching as the prep continued.

_I guess I might as well ask the hard questions. It's either now or later._

"Spock, don't take this the wrong way, but... how did this happen?" McCoy turned to see Spock's features harden. "I'm _not_ blaming you. I just haven't read any of those reports or gotten the details. Been busy."

Spock nodded, then went rigid as he spoke, his eyes still on Jim. "We beamed down to the location of the cave where the signal is coming from. The geography, weather and toxicity of the planet as a whole makes sensor readings... sporadic. We could see that the survey drone had gotten inside the cave, but could not download information from it, nor pull it back out. Reynolds and T'ssisk had ventured close to the entrance of the cave. In their attempt to get a signal from the drone, they entered the mouth of the cave without seeking permission. Something reached out and pulled them in. There was screaming, but we could neither see them visually nor with our scanners."

Spock almost looked angry. "Before I could form a plan for their rescue, Jim had tied the emergency rope around his waist, tossed the end to me, and run into the cave. I was not able to stop him. The other two crewmen and I pulled on the rope, but it seemed to be snagged on something. It took us several minutes to make any progress. When we were finally able to pull the Captain out, he had grabbed Reynolds and T'ssisk around their waists and they all were pulled out together. I did not..." Spock took a deep breath, still not looking at McCoy. "I did not go after him myself. He had ordered me to stay outside."

"But you wanted to," McCoy said. Spock did not reply. McCoy shook his head. "If you had gone in, it just would have been one more person we had to work on. Jim made the decision to go in. He needed you to stay outside and pull them out. You did what he needed you to do."

"He is the _Captain_. He should _not_ have gone in," Spock said tightly.

"You're right. But he's Jim Kirk," McCoy shook his head. "Jumping from one danger to another is what he does, no matter how dangerous the fall. As long as he believes he has a chance to help someone, there's no stopping him."

_No stopping him, not even for me. He grew up dancing on rooftops, always looking up for something more, trusting his own footing and rarely looking down. He knows the danger, but chooses to take it anyway, if it'll save someone. He **never** figures in the cost to himself. If I could change that, I'm not sure I would. He wouldn't be the Jim Kirk I adore if he lost that. I just hope I can be enough for him, when he needs me. When it finally all comes crashing down. If he even survives it. _

His thoughts reminded him of when he'd woken up just hours ago, feeling almost human again.

_Rooftops. Like that dream I had last night. I wish I could remember it. It felt important._

"Spock?"

Spock tore his gaze away from Jim once more.

"Thank you. For the meld. And the sleep. You were right. _Everyone_ was right," McCoy admitted sheepishly. "I needed the help."

Spock nodded his head once and turned back to watch the prep. "That is, as they say, what friends do, Leonard."

Nurse Branson came to the door of the prep area.

"We'll be ready for the procedure in a few moments, Doctor. Doctor M'Benga is on his way to scrub and assist. The batch of skin-jell is still reading as viable."

"Fine, I'll get scrubbed up."

Then he left to go and take care of Jim.

 

***

 

Jim leaned back on the top edge of the row of half-full bench chairs behind him, arms cross as he scanned the crowded shuttle terminal. He knew he was in the Atlanta terminal on Earth, as the flight displays clearly said so. He thought it was some years in the past, if clothing styles were anything to go by. He himself seemed to be dressed in well-worn jeans, a soft gray T-shirt and very comfortable shoes. Same as in his other visions, or scenes, as he now thought of them. Not exactly a fashion statement, but pretty timeless and comfortable as hell. He felt clean, shaved, combed, stomach full but no need to use a 'fresher. Physically, he didn't seem to have any needs.

_But I **need** to go home. I **need** to figure this out. _

He would have been able to get the stardate and local time from the data-screens around the terminal, but like a dream, they were blurry and indistinct. He couldn't read anything but the location. The people in his peripheral vision, who seemed to move, talk, and rush to catch their shuttle flights, went pale and see-through when he wasn't looking directly at them. Even the sounds he heard disappeared when he didn't directly notice them. There was a quiet behind the active noise that was too noticeable. Echoes should be bouncing around the open architecture, but weren't.

He'd been through a lot of different scenes recently, at different ages and times in his life. Or what felt like recently. And of all the scenes he'd visited, most of them were just pale, two-dimensional representations of actual places he'd been before. Arriving in them and then moving on had felt aimless. Disjointed. Like jumping around randomly through a vid of his childhood and late teens. Only one scene that he could remember had _felt_ real. Really real. And that had been on the roof of his old house when he was a kid. The time McCoy had shown up, out of place but completely welcomed.

_So, I'm either dead, I'm dimension jumping in some weird way, I'm insane, under some kind of alien influence, or dreaming. I don't remember anything from when I died, so can't say if I've been through this before. If I'm having my life flash before my eyes, then it's been lot of wasted time. There's been nothing really important about any of it. If I'm supposed to be learning something or finishing something in order to move on from my death, it's not going very well. The best parts of my life are further ahead, not in my youth._

_The dead part I can't do anything about, and I've seen no real evidence that these are different dimensions. They're too insubstantial. And I haven't seen any unknown aliens lurking around, so if there are any I'll have to handle them as they come. Insanity or a very long dream is possible. And while there's that old saying that the insane never question their own sanity, I question everything. Why wouldn't I question my own? I'm sure everyone else wonders about me at times._

That thought brought a smile. McCoy was fond of telling him he was utterly insane. McCoy was usually a good judge of character.

_So, if these are my dreams, why isn't he **always** around? And why was the dream with McCoy the one that felt the most real, but the least likely to have ever happened? _

He'd even tried inserting McCoy into the familiar scenes he'd been revisiting. But he couldn't make him appear. Neither could he make anyone else appear. Not his mother, not Sam, Aurelian or the kids. Not even David.

Then he'd tried summoning up any of the Enterprise crew. He next imagined himself on the Enterprise, and that time it had worked. But he'd found the ship completely empty of people and he couldn't read the screens. Messing with controls did nothing. And the more he tried to remember the last _real_ thing he had done, the further the memory slipped from him.

_There are rules here, wherever it is that I am. I just need to figure them out. Then I'll know how to get home. Or how to signal someone for help._ He sighed. _I seem to have nothing better to do._

Now he had to figure out why he was in this terminal, as an adult. He couldn't for the life of him remember ever being here before. And except for the edges of everything drifting off, it felt real. Like the hard edge of the bench seats holding him up, or the softness of his clothing. Maybe that was a signal to pay close attention.

Then the loud speaker went off, this time the words were clear and distinct.

"Shuttle 409, Atlanta to Salem boarding at gate 13. Shuttle 409, ready for boarding."

_What?_ The words had struck Jim like a brick to the head. _I **know** that shuttle. Oh **SHIT**!_

Checking the terminal map, he took off down the direction for gate 13.

_This is McCoy's shuttle, when his Mom died! And he's_ **with** _her._

The crowds slowed him down. Even though he knew they probably weren't real, those in his way felt solid and reacted with annoyance when he bumped into them. Like a nightmare, it seemed to take forever for Jim to get to gate thirteen. And when he did, he saw them.

Patience Abigail Culver McCoy was just like the pictures and vids Jim had seen with McCoy. At about one and three-fourths meters, she was striking. Her heart-shaped face, cupid bow lips and high cheekbones only helped to bring out the color of her green eyes, visible even from this distance. Her black hair was pulled back to the base of her neck in a bun, but loosely, so Jim could see the slight wave he'd always suspected McCoy shared. She was clearly a professional, on a business trip. But the smile on her face and the look of love she gave the boy next to her showed that she was looking forward to this trip, business or not.

And that boy, looking a bit excited, was her twelve-year-old son, Leonard.

Before, on the roof of his house, Jim hadn't really seen McCoy very well. It had been as pitch dark as he remembered it being in real life. But now he could see the young McCoy clearly. And just like in the pictures and vids of them both, McCoy was the spitting image of his mother. Almost a meter and a half tall, young McCoy was skinny and just beginning to show an awkward gangliness that hinted at a growth spurt in his near future. The shaggy locks of black hair that framed his face in the current style, upturned nose, and cheekbones gave him an almost elfin appearance.

He was wearing a dark brown jacket over a white shirt, dark slacks and shoes, with none of the abundant pictures and logos that usually crowded the space on kid's clothing. The exception being knapsack over his shoulder, which had all kinds of stickers and logos from vids and sports teams of the time. Leonard McCoy looked like a young professional. One that not only carried his own knapsack, but what looked to be his mother's briefcase as well.

Patience checked her ticket, then smilingly pointed down the terminal and said something to her son. McCoy nodded and followed as she led the way.

_Is this really happening? She can't really die a second time, can she? Can I change something?_

He didn't think so, but he had to try.

Running to catch up, he noticed that young McCoy had stopped as Patience approached the shuttle entrance. He stood there, looking scared and uncertain. Jim slowed down, and curbed the urge to grab the youngster and pull him away.

"Bones?" Jim asked softly. "Are you... here?"

Young McCoy turned to him, his hazel eyes blinking slowly as he looked Jim over.

"You're not supposed to be here," McCoy said softly, his voice young and without the depth he'd have later. "It was only me and my Ma."

"I know," Jim said. He reached out and touched McCoy's shoulder. He felt solid. "But this isn't real. Not for me, anyway. I think I'm dreaming this."

McCoy frowned and shook his head. "This is _my_ dream. Everything's exactly right, except for you."

"We can leave," Jim said, now gripping McCoy's shoulder. He felt so small and young under Jim's hand.

_It doesn't matter whose dream this is. We both can leave it and go somewhere else. Someplace better._

"I _can't_ ," McCoy said with determination, anguish on his face. "I have to try to **stop** her. To take her home. Then, maybe, it won't have happened."

McCoy stepped forward and Jim fought the urge to drag him away. At the gate, Patience stood and smiled indulgently, holding her hand out for her son. McCoy walked to her and took her hand. Jim had no choice but to follow them both.

"Bones, listen!" Jim said anxiously as he followed them down the loading ramp and into the shuttle. Even though it was packed, no one seemed to notice him, yet they avoided him. "This isn't _real!_ Otherwise, I _couldn't_ be here because I'm still six years old and in Iowa. The accident, her death, has already happened and there's _no use_ you going through this again."

McCoy turned to Jim as Patience McCoy took her seat, next to the window. "But she'll be _alone_ when it happens. I can't leave her _alone!"_

"She wouldn't _want_ you here!" Jim said this time grabbing McCoy's shoulder again before he could turn away. No one around them, not even Patience, who smiled up at her son from her seat as she settled, seem to see anything amiss. He could feel the trembling of McCoy's young body under his hand. "There's _nothing_ you can do. It's just a memory and we can leave it here, move on to another one. We don't have to let it run to the end. I _know_. I've been doing this for a while."

_And if it feels as real to you as it does to me, could you be damaged by the impact? By the fall? Like you were when it first happened?_

McCoy looked up at him, tears in the oh-so-young hazel eyes, face twisted with despair and fear. "I _can't_ , damn it! I have to be with her, to the end. Can't you... can't you go and take over the shuttle? Ground it somehow? Change it that way?"

_If I could, I would!_ Jim thought sadly. _But reliving a memory and changing it are two things. Just like I couldn't make people appear, or run the Enterprise by myself, I can't do anything about how this plays out. Especially if this is really your shared memory, and you're not just part of my fevered imagination._

"I can't," Jim said, feeling gutted at having to say the words. "I think you're right, it may be a shared dream, but this _is_ your memory. Bones, all the details are in your head. They may have dimmed over time, but they're still there. You don't need to go through that again. Because it'll feel completely real, and maybe even as painful as the real thing. I'm afraid you'll get hurt. The _real_ you, not just this memory of you. And you don't need to have the memories brought back and made fresh. This is one wound you can't afford to pick at."

"You don't _know_ that," McCoy scowled at him. His baby scowl was much like his adult's, chiding and harsh. He turned to sit in the seat next to his mother. The one that had done its job of keeping him alive, if not in one piece. "Maybe, I _can_ do something this time-"

Jim made up his mind. He couldn't let this happen. Not again.

Moving quickly, Jim leaned over and grabbed McCoy around the waist from behind, picking him up. He turned and headed for the door of the cabin, still open for the last of the passengers. No one paid either of them any attention and Patience McCoy did not call after her son. It wouldn't have stopped him if she had.

McCoy, startled and now angry, twisted and thrashed and Jim fought to hold him. "Let me down, _damn-it-Jim_! I can't leave her!"

Jim man-handled him out of the shuttle. McCoy tried everything he could to get loose, short of actually hurting Jim. He even managed to grab the door frame of the shuttle at one point. Jim had gotten them both part way up the loading ramp when the door to the shuttle closed behind them.

McCoy's head whipped around when he heard the sound and he froze.  "No!" McCoy whispered, his voice watery. "Jim, _please_..."

" _No_ ," Jim said softly but firmly, setting McCoy down. He was a good ninety pounds, and Jim didn't want to hurt him by forcing him any further. "I can't let you. There was nothing you could have done then, and there's nothing you can do now. Your mother _loved_ you, Bones. She'd _hate_ to see you re-live this. Especially when there's no point."

McCoy turned and grabbed Jim's waist, burying his head against Jim's chest as he started to sob. Jim wrapped his arms around Bones' small, thin shoulders and held him while he cried.

 

***

 

Doctor Leonard McCoy woke to tears streaming down his face. For a couple of minutes he was confused, not understanding where he was, or where he just had been. Looking around, he found himself sitting at the corner desk in the treatment room, face pillowed on his folded arms. Jim, face down on the table, was still mind-blocked and under a sterile field and a Cyrysium lamp. The skin-jell placement for the growth of muscle tissue had gone well this time. The lamp was telling all of Jim's cloned, suspended cells that they were now muscle cells and encouraging them to be fruitful and multiply.

_I must have nodded off, and M'Benga and the nurses just let me be. I know I must still look like a mess and needed the sleep._

He checked the time. Jim would need to be under the lamp for another few hours, then they'd wait to see that the cells replicated correctly. That would take another day or so.

_Time to check on the cloning for the skin-jell we need to repace his lost skin,_ McCoy thought tiredly.  _And the rest of the ship to check up on. I might as well get paperwork done in the meantime. I should eat._

But he didn't know if he could. He grabbed a tissue and wiped his face. Whatever he'd dreamt, it'd been upsetting, and his stomach was in a knot.

_I guess it's just as well I can't remember. I've got enough nightmares out here to keep me busy, I don't need some old ones hanging around._

He tossed the tissue in the recycler and headed back to work.

 

***

 

James T. Kirk smiled as he walked down the hall. He recognized the location.

_Back at the Academy! And no one is going to write me up for not being in my reds. This could be cool. There's so many things I'd like to take a second look at, when no one's looking._

The happy mood lasted only a few minutes, when he saw someone from the class above him. Someone who'd died the day Nero had attacked. Suddenly he felt sad and sober. Looking around, he startled.

_All of them, dead. So many..._

He stopped then, in the hallway in one of the dorms, and watched as faces of old acquaintances passed by. Some he knew were alive and well, on other ships. Some on planet assignment. Some were lucky to be just starting out, and wouldn't be called to give their all before they'd even graduated. But many, so many, Jim knew had died years ago were walking the dorm hallway around him. People he and McCoy had seen almost every day as they came and went from their room. Even if they never got to know any more about them.

_Damn, if I'd only been faster with the warning to Pike. Maybe we'd have gotten a message to those on the forefront, they could have had a chance to defend themselves._

But he knew that it wouldn't have mattered. By a twist of fate, Sulu had kept the Enterprise just far enough behind the others to give Nero enough time to identify them and hold off on attacking. Everything about that event had been studied, and would be for years. Jim had yet to see any report that had found anything that could have been done differently to save more lives.

_They're gone. There's nothing else I could have done. Nothing else Pike could have done._

He realized then that Pike was here as well, with all the rest of them. Pike's death still hurt.

_Do I even want to see him again, and not have him see me? Or would it hurt, like it hurt McCoy to see his mother again, and know he couldn't save her?_

He took a deep breath and continued on, not sure how he felt about that. He nodded at those he remembered fondly even if they didn't seem to see him.

It wasn't until he reached his destination, one he'd chosen without thinking, that he smiled once again. The names Kirk and McCoy were on a nameplate over the door chime and had Jim's own graffiti over it. He'd written beside their names in dry erase marker, in his best block print ...

_Terrific Top --- > _ KIRK/MCCOY <\--- _Bitchy Bottom_

  

He laughed. _God, I wished! Little did I know what the future held._

He pressed his hand on the door lock and was not surprised it opened to him. It would, after all, be wasted dream time if it hadn't.

Stepping into the small entryway was like coming home. The privacy divider was plastered with old street signs and the lit menu from one of the famous bars just up the street from the Academy entrance.

The sign advertised the bar's stock, continually scrolling a long list of exotic, and in some cases slightly illegal, drinks from across the galaxy. Jim knew that everyone assumed that he had somehow stolen it, but Jim had actually asked for it early one morning, before it'd hit the dumpster. Maintenance had tossed it to the drunken kid and shook their head at his wanting the broken thing. It hadn't worked in days. But with a little tinkering he'd been able to fix it. He had thoroughly enjoyed the fact most of those who'd seen it in their room had been grudgingly jealous and judgmentally suspicious at the same time. It was a small nod to his low-down, country hick, bad boy past that everyone thought they knew.

Everyone but McCoy, who thought it was tacky and annoying and who'd never for a second thought he'd stolen it. Although McCoy admitted to having the goal of drinking everything on the list at least once. Jim had promised to help him with that. He had added a small, blinking column to the right of each drink, so they could tick them off as they worked their way through it.

_About a third of the list accounted for. Must be our second year. We slowed way down after the first summer, when McCoy started to show more interest in actually doing something that didn't include drinking the whole weekend. When he had a weekend, or even a day, off._

Jim had to admit, being a Doctor in the Academy was hell. While Jim worked hard to keep his grades up and take all his extra classes to graduate early, McCoy's schedule was even worse. He not only wanted to graduate in the usual four years, but wanted to have his Doctorate updated to include his Xenobiological studies, and to stay on top of the current biological sciences. Which meant hands-on field practice. And that meant staff duty at the clinic and the on-base hospital. All that, even though he'd specialized in Orthopedic Trauma and Emergency Response, and had actually been a practicing doctor in those fields.

Starfleet didn't fuck around when it came to training their doctors, although they did cut them some slack once in a while. McCoy had been excused from the required bouts of civic cleanup duty and maintenance all the other cadets had to endure. But, in the long run, that hadn't been much of a break.

The sight of the room around the partition almost made him feel homesick. It was one room, big for one person, but a bit crowded for two. There were two standard beds, with the expected night stands, lights and alarms. Jim's alarm, which he had made himself with old-style hobby electronics and vacuum tubes, was still on his nightstand. The old analog face giving the time at 6:22 pm.

_Where the hell did that end up, anyway?_ _In storage?_

There were shelves all around the room, full of books, files, and bits of equipment that was both part of his hobbies and part of his class work. And clothing, most of it civilian and most of it his, piled here and there, some clean and folded, some in a pile on the floor. They never did have enough storage space.

On the wall opposite the entryway, two desks had been shoved together facing each other. They'd barely had room on each side for their chairs. When they opened the desk drawers they'd get blocked in.

Along the wall opposite the beds was a door to a basic 'fresher with shower. Another door opened to a small hole in the wall the Academy called a closet, thus the clothing piles. In between the doors was a datascreen on the wall, for vid watching, campus announcements, news-vids and 'in room' classes if one was sick. Below the screen was a small 'food center' that was too tiny to even be referred to as a kitchen, since it was basically a cabinet wide enough for a second-hand micro-heater on one side and a recycler on the other. Food packs and other assorted items had been shoved in the drawers underneath.

_McCoy always said it was set up for ultimate convenience. Cook the packaged food in the heater, then shove it straight into the recycler. Don't even bother with the eating it part, because it was already shit, ready for processing. Just another way to keep to the cafeteria opened. Someone had to eat the food they prepared while training the future Starship cooks._

And the crowning glory, over the head of the beds was their window. The biggest window on the floor. One whose closed, decorative blinds were now hiding the fact that for three years, he and McCoy had had a beautiful, unobstructed, panoramic view of the metal side of the added-on freight elevator. On a good day, they could watch a bar of sunlight slide from the top of their view to the bottom.

It had been home for three years. Years where either of them could have requested other roommates, yet hadn't. Jim had worried that McCoy would, since 'dorm room bingo' had become almost a sport after the first six months, when the Academy decide they could start making adult decisions about who they shared with.

McCoy'd actually been due a larger, and a lot more private, room with the medical staff near the Academy hospital. But it'd been full when he'd signed up, and the recruiter hadn't bothered to check on any openings or mention that to him. When McCoy had arrived, he'd been told he had the right to postpone his entry to the Academy until a room fitting his professional status opened up. Or he could take the last open room with the last-minute cadet they'd just accepted and put his name on the med-dorm waiting list.

McCoy had said fuck it, he wasn't going back now, and had accept the assignment with Jim. Jim had always assumed McCoy had put his name on the med-dorm list and just never accepted an opening. Asking him would have been like tempting fate, or reminding him he had the chance to jump ship. Jim had gotten several offers of new bed assignments when they came available. But some of the rooms he was offered would have signaled a seriousness to a hook-up or a flirtation that hadn't been there. He was comfortable with McCoy.

_He was my friend. A **real** friend. We could say anything to each other, share all the good and bad things, and I never had to worry about him asking for something I didn't want to give. I guess he reminded me of Sam in a lot of ways. He wouldn't hesitate to speak his mind, chide me, be furious with me, happy for me, concerned for me, laugh at and with me, and put up with all my shit when he didn't have to. _

_Or, at least, try to put up with it. And when he found a line, he made damn sure I knew what it would cost to cross it. Just like I could put up my own walls and lines he shouldn't cross. And he never really asked for anything in return, or wanted anything from me. And, unlike Sam, he stayed._

_And he took a chance on throwing everything he'd worked for away, to get me on the Enterprise when I was in trouble. Because he was my friend._

Looking over the bits and pieces, he realized that at this time of their lives he and McCoy were deep into the middle of their second year, second semester. Jim recognized the data disks on the desks and the class schedule taped to the wall that was covered with pithy, and unkind but true, notes about their instructors. Just in case they forgot how much they disliked the teachers and got caught taking their class again.

He smiled as he read the comments. _Some of the most disliked were actually some of the best teachers we ever had. If I ever retire and teach, and I'm half as dis-liked for the work I make my students do and the way I frustrate and push them, I'll be doing very well indeed. What a difference experience makes in how we see the past._

Jim had just come up to their desks when he heard the door slide open. Turning, he felt surprise as he saw himself walk into the room. A younger version.

_Oh, my God_ , Jim thought in surprise. _Is it just me, or does 23 now look a lot younger than it used to? I look like the plebe I was, that's for sure._

The young-Jim didn't notice him, so Jim relaxed and sat on the edge of his old desk to watch. Young-Jim charged full speed into the room, shedding his red jacket and flinging it toward the bed with one hand as he tossed a datapad toward his desk with the other. He missed both. Young-Jim threw himself into the 'fresher and Jim heard the shower start just before shoes, red pants, socks and underwear flew across the room toward his bed. They just missed as well. Then the 'fresher door slid closed.

The hall door opened again and Doctor Leonard McCoy walked in. Eyes on the datapad in his hand, he almost tripped on a newly shed shoe.

"Damnit, Jim," McCoy muttered kicking the shoe to the side as he continued to read. He walked over to place his PADD carefully on his desk. This brought him right next to Jim, who was now almost used to being invisible. Jim looked him over, seeing a McCoy who was now only twenty-nine.

_This McCoy and I are almost the same age. I can see my old self the way he did. This should be good,_ Jim thought with a smile.

This McCoy was definitely younger and less careworn. The line from nose to mouth was barely there, the famous forehead-scowl-crease and the crow's-feet around his eyes were just hinted at.

_I think I like the older version better. What he's gone through, what he's learned and accomplished, that's just adds to his attractiveness. And the older one knows me in ways that this one doesn't. Yet._

McCoy turned to his bed and started to undress, unbuttoning his uniform top. "She's going to blow you off!" McCoy yelled at the closed 'fresher door.

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"She's going to blow you _off!"_ McCoy yelled again, just as young-Jim, now wet from a super quick shower, stuck his head out the door. "And not in the good way."

"No way! What time it is?"

"Almost six-thirty." McCoy slipped out of his uniform pants and went to throw them in the sonic cleaner. He then picked up a blue top and pants out of a drawer. "You're going to be late, anyway."

"Not very!" A naked Young-Jim said through the open 'fresher door while he continued to clean up. "And you're full of shit. We've had this date set up for _hours_ now. She's _not_ going to blow me off."

"Frances had lunch with Hitesh."

_Frances Green and Hitesh?_  Jim thought. _I don't really remember her, but remember being totally jealous of Hitesh. He was major competition at the time, for both class rankings, grades, and everyone's attention. Plus, I have to admit, he was a pretty hot guy. A lot of the ladies were looking for his attention, when they went looking at all._

"What? No way!"

"I was _there_ , at lunch, waiting for _you_ ," McCoy came to sit at his desk. "They were sitting close, and she was _leaning into_ him. She was making _googly eyes_ at him, laughing at what he was saying, and playing with her hair. She's gonna blow you off, like you did me."

"Did _not_ blow you off," Young-Jim said around a mouth full of toothpaste. "I sent you a message."

" _After_ you were already late," McCoy huffed.

"Couldn't be helped," Young-Jim said. "I had to stay after that last class. I got an 'A-' on that test. I _so_ did not deserve that insult."

"And you had to stay to try to argue it to an 'A'," McCoy sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"Did you get it?"

" _No_ ," Young-Jim said with frustration. "We had a difference of opinion on the meaning of some of the vocabulary. I was totally right, by the way. Bennington just wouldn't agree with me."

"Gee, imagine that," McCoy said sarcastically while re-arranging some of the things on his desk, giving him more room for his PADD and stylus. "Someone teaching at the Academy doesn't agree with you."

"And Diplomacy _sucks_. God, _every damn word_ can be twisted, whether you're speaking English or Standard. Remind me _not_ to go into that field."

Young-Jim hurried out of the 'fresher, unashamedly naked, and started digging through their shared closet, pulling out a pair of pants. He was pulling them on sans underwear when the wall screen buzzed. "Answer, no vid!"

A light and cheerful feminine voice came through the screen. Jim couldn't even remember what she looked like.

"Jim? It's Frances, I--"

"On my way, I swear!" Young-Jim said, grabbing some socks from a drawer. Jim noticed McCoy giving Young-Jim the evil eye, since they were from McCoy's drawer. "I had a long run back to the dorms from my last class and--"

"That's okay," Frances broke in quickly. "I'm afraid I'll have to cancel tonight. I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. And I have all this studying to do... Sorry."

Young-Jim stopped short, only one sock on. "Oh, yeah. Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Uh... well, I'll probably have more homework then."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay, you... you feel better," Young-Jim said, as if he believed her.

"Thanks. Bye!"

"Yup," McCoy said with a shake of his head, eyes on his computer screen, ready to take notes on his PADD. "She's suffering all right. From Hitesh-itis. She'll probably have to get laid to be cured of it. And after that, well, she might have more homework that'll get in the way. Homework. At the Academy. _What_ will they saddle us with next?"

Young-Jim sighed and flopped on his back on his bed. "Damn, and there I thought she'd finally fallen for my charm."

"Well, there's your problem right there," McCoy said with a crooked smile. "She's probably heard where your _'charm'_ has been all this semester. You're lucky you haven't caught something nasty, worn it down to a nub or broken it off yet."

"You _can't_ break them off," Young-Jim said with a scowl. Then he sat up, looking concerned. "You can't, can you?"

"Rupture of the corpus cavernosum, or better known as a ' _penile fracture'_." McCoy said cheerfully as he wrote something down. "A condition sometimes erroneously claimed by a patient who has actually suffered a torn frenulum. A torn frenulum bleeds like a bitch and a half every time the heart beats. Whenever a guy starts bleeding from his dick, you can be sure he thinks he's actually broken it. Why, sometimes--"

"No! Stop!" Young-Jim said, throwing himself back on the bed with a shocked laugh. "Remind me _not_ to ask you these medical questions. There are some things a guy _doesn't_ want to know, unless it's an emergency situation."

"Oh, I expect you'll find out about any number of horrible sex-related injuries firsthand, any day now," McCoy said casually. "You keep trying to work your way through the student body--"

"I'm _not_ trying to do that," Young-Jim said, frowning. "I just like to meet people and --"

"Sex."

"Well, yeah. Doesn't everyone?" Young-Jim said, pushing up on his elbows to look at McCoy. "Oh, look who I'm talking to. Doctor Celibate. C'mon, Bones! Why don't you let me fix you up--"

" _No_ ," McCoy said firmly. "I'm just _fine_ , thank you. Besides, if I went looking for a hook-up every time we went out bar hopping, you'd be short a wingman."

"Very true," Young-Jim admitted, sitting up and putting on the second sock. "But why don't we go out tonight and give it a try anyway. There's that bar across town that--"

"I have to _study_ tonight," McCoy said shortly. "I have a half-day clinic duty tomorrow and all day Sunday."

"Oh, yeah, forgot. But there really _are_ people who are really interested in you," Young-Jim said. "Maybe they'd be in the mood for quick, emergency sex if asked. Wouldn't take all that long."

McCoy gave Jim a scowl. " _Sure,_ there are. Just waiting for me to comm them. Come at my beck and call."

"No, I'm _serious_ ," Jim insisted. "They've asked me about you. Roberts, Randolf, Atchison, Corbet--"

"Corbet?" McCoy asked in surprise. "That asshole? God, his ego is worse than yours. Why in the world would he think I'd be interested in his kind of snot-nosed self-worship? Which reminds me," McCoy looked up to give Young-Jim a glare. "You get that graffiti  _cleaned off_. I am _not_ a 'bitchy bottom' and I'd rather not be followed around campus by those who are looking for one."

"Oh, you're not?"

Jim could see the second that an idea came into Young-Jim's head.

_Hot guy, best friend, roommate, nice, who actually likes me and needs to work off some steam... Easy lay. God, how did Bones put up with me?_

Young-Jim got up from the bed, his eyes focused on McCoy. He walked over to McCoy's desk casually, his body language suddenly smooth and sensual, clearly telegraphing an interest in getting the Good Doctor horizontal.

Jim felt embarrassed seeing his half-naked younger self on the move. _Man, I couldn't have been more obvious! But how many times had that worked in the past? Way too many for my own good._

Young-Jim went to sit with a hip on the edge of McCoy's desk.

McCoy looked up from his homework with suspicion, eyes narrowed.

"You know, Bones," Young-Jim said softly, smiling seductively, "we don't _have_ to go out and find other people. I trust you, you can trust me, and we're good together. I'm completely open to being _your_ bottom, if you'd like that better. And you could trust me as a top because--"

"Jim Kirk," McCoy growled, "We've addressed this _before_ , even if none of it was spoken out loud. I am _not_ interested in being your top, your bottom, or a filling for any kind of sexual sandwich you can dream up. Just give it up, kid, 'cause it ain't happenin'."

Jim saw his younger version deflate a bit. "People can be friends _with_ benefits you know."

"Others can," McCoy with a shake of his head. "But... I'm not sure something like that would work for us. For me."

Young-Jim looked at McCoy seriously and said, very quietly, "You wouldn't have to get _me_ off, you know. I wouldn't mind just making you feel good."

McCoy sighed and put his stylus down. He turned his chair toward Young-Jim.

"Listen, Jim. I _appreciate_ the offer. I really do. But we're _fine_ the way we are. We're _great_. Let's not fuck up our friendship up with... sex." McCoy's lips twisted into an amused smile. "Okay, I could have phrased that better. But you _know_ what I mean."

"No. That's fine." Young-Jim looked disappointed, but shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "I understand. Line drawn."

_I remember now,_ Jim thought as he watched his younger self rise and stroll back toward the closet. _It **had** mattered, but it was okay. Best rejection I'd ever had in my life. Because I knew he loved me as a friend, even as family, and we didn't need sex to stay that way. And it was too early to be more. For either of us to want to commit to stronger feelings. At this point, we didn't know if we'd ever see each other again after graduation. It would have made a separation all that much harder._

"But it _is_ a Friday night," Young-Jim said casually as he picked through the shirts, "and there's nothing on the vids and you're studying..."

"Go," McCoy said with a wave toward the door. "Go do your thing. Just don't bring them back here, because I really do need to study. And sleep. So, try not to drink so much you're sick or I have to come find you. And try to keep your _charm_ in one piece. I'd rather not have to clean up blood spray from our room. Again."

Young-Jim pulled on a shirt and came back to the desk and gave McCoy a slap on the shoulder. "Got it, Dad," he said with a smile. "Promise not to break it off."

Jim watched his younger self gather his things up for the evening and give a salute to McCoy as he walked behind the partition and out the door. He expected the scene to move on, since his memories would be from the Young-Jim who'd just left. But it took Jim a second to realize he was still there, with only McCoy in the room. He turned to look at McCoy, who was still staring after the departed Young-Jim.

_I couldn't have seen this. Is this from Bones' memories?_

The younger McCoy looked a bit deflated as he turned back to his homework.

"Sorry, Kid," the younger McCoy muttered to himself. "But another sex partner isn't what you need, when there are already so few people out here who care about you. Anything to do with you is too important for me to risk screwing up. I can live with being just a friend, but I wouldn't want to live with being an old, extinguished flame of yours."

McCoy shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "But if I ever do fall in bed with a man, it'd have to be you. Just don't expect me to be any good at it, first times and all."

Jim felt surprised. _Wait. Was I his first male lover?_

He had always assumed that McCoy had had a lot of sexual experience. Growing up was when people experimented, definitely with the same species and sometimes even with aliens of they were broad-minded or curious enough. Jim had done plenty of everything, and everyone, who was willing. As long as it wasn't taken too seriously, or too far, he was open to _almost_ any kind of play. At least once, anyway.

_I guess it never dawned on me that because Bones had started dating Jacquelyn at such a young age, he hadn't experimented a lot. If at all. I know she was his first and he never cheated on her. Had he really only been with one person, until his divorce?_

Jim felt surprised that he'd never thought it through. When McCoy did start dating again, which wasn't too long after this conversation if Jim remembered correctly, McCoy was certainly only interested in women. And he did start flirting more and dating when he had the time, although they were closer to his age and outside the Academy. One lady, at the start of their third year, had seemed to be pretty serious for him. But then they broke off and Jim never found out why.

Something in Jim was extraordinarily touched at the idea that McCoy might have been a virgin with men when they'd gotten to the 'benefits' stage. And a bit worried that he hadn't been as slow, or as gentle, as he'd needed to be with someone who was experiencing something new.

When McCoy turned back to his screen with a sigh and picked up his stylus, the scene changed again.

 

 

***

 

Nyota Uhura stood at attention at the Ready Room door. "The data packs from Starfleet, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Spock said, not looking up from his screen.

Uhura walked in, sighing as the door slid shut behind her. "Have you found anything yet?" She asked as he brought the file disk up to Spock and sat down in the chair beside him.

"Neither Medical nor the Science departments seem to be making any progress as to pinning down the composition of the various chemicals and compounds of the local flora," Spock said tightly. Uhura knew that meant Spock was frustrated. "There are compounds we have not seen before, and do not understand. And many variations of those compounds, all in constant flux."

"And we're sure that the toxins are the reason Len can't take Jim off the brain-block?"

"Since the Captain was exposed to the toxins of the alien plant, it is only logical that this would be the cause of his extended pain," Spock said, sitting back and resting his chin on his templed fingers. "The Captain had a physical only weeks ago, and there were no anomalies. Doctor's McCoy and M'Benga have found that certain aspects of his body chemistry have changed."

"It was _that_ bad, when they took him off?" Uhura asked softly as she put a hand on his arm. Jim Kirk was a strong man, who'd endured pain before. He'd been trained in techniques to withstand torture. They all had. When she had seen Spock come back to the bridge, she could tell from his face that it hadn't gone well.

"I was there when Doctor McCoy released the block to allow his brain to connect to his body again, once his skin grafts had set." Spock shook his head gravely. "Once again, he registered intense pain. Beyond the scale. It was only for a few seconds, yet still..." Spock faltered. "I could feel it. Even without any physical contact, I could feel the edges of it radiate from him in the micro-second his brain completed the link with his body. For a human to project far enough for a Vulcan to perceive it.... Yes, it was _that_ bad."

"And the changes are not due to the burns themselves?" Uhura asked. She still shivered inside when thinking about how Jim had looked when he'd been brought aboard. And that was after they'd tried to treat him for several hours. She had only gotten a glimpse while she was there to report to Spock on the change in the signal from the planet. The burns were horrible, and she didn't know how anyone could have survived that kind of pain, let alone have it amplified magnitudes beyond normal.

She could always tell how bad off Jim was by McCoy when he wasn't actually on duty and tending to him. McCoy had built up excellent walls to help him work on his patients, and keep calm and objective. But once he was off duty, they all came tumbling down. And without Jim to help him express or compartmentalize those feeling so he could deal with them, it was harder for him to take care of himself. That's why she and Spock had decided to intervein after the first few days. Someone had to help McCoy wind down and be able to sleep. Since then, McCoy'd been better about taking breaks, eating some, and trying to sleep. But he wasn't doing any of them very well.

For McCoy, not knowing what the problem was, was just making the problem that much worse. He couldn't heal what he didn't understand.

"But his skin grafts have gone well?"

"Yes. Both Doctors seem to believe that this batch of cloned cells is multiplying and settling well into their new functions. They're studying the first batch of cloned cells to see why they not only failed to thrive, but actually mutated in the medical jell. The difference between the two batches may yet reveal some results."

"I hope so," Uhura said with feeling. Something Spock said was vying for her attention.

"Spock, you said that the chemical compositions found on the planet were fluctuating? Constantly changing?"

"Yes, they are."

"And the electrical signals from the planet have changed from when I first recorded them. About the time of the attack on the crewmen," she said.

Spock's eyebrow rose. "You believe that there may be a connection between the two?"

"Electricity can be made by chemical reactions," she said as she tried to follow the thought. "Aren't we all a balance of chemicals and minerals, when you remove all the water? And you've all said that the planet is toxic and that the plant life should not be able to survive in the compounds we know, let alone those we don't."

"True."

"What if the plant life isn't growing _in spite_ of all the toxins and chemicals?" She asked. "What if the life is _creating_ all the toxic compounds, and they're using the chemicals to communicate amongst themselves and now with us? After all, we know the Trinitarians communicate through scents and smells."

Spock looked at her for a second, then turned back to the desk in front of him, furiously typing on the displayed keyboard. "I believe you may have hit upon the common factor," Spock said, with as much excitement as he allowed himself. "The electrical signals sent out into space speak to the presence of intelligent life. Electricity is a product of chemicals reacting with the right minerals. Those signals may correspond to the fluctuations in the chemical compounds in and around the plants themselves. Most species in the universe are a combination of chemicals and compounds, which includes humans."

"And Jim was exposed to a strong concentration of them," Uhura added. "So, maybe the pain he's experiencing is the result of..."

"Communication." Spock stopped typing and looked at her. "They are still trying to communicate with him. And the signals manifest in pain, because we are not equipped to decode such messages on such a basic level."

Uhura stood quickly. "I'll bring in all my recordings and we can try matching the electrical signals and the compound fluctuations, and see if we can give the computer enough to start on looking for basic language structure. And, if we're lucky, some vocabulary."

"Bring them in here, and I'll have the department heads come in to help with the comparison. Along with Doctor McCoy," Spock said. "It may be that we simply need to leave orbit and get far enough away that any attempts at communication from the planet will fade and cease. That may leave him free from pain."

"But we need to make sure it wouldn't make Jim's problem worse."

"Precisely."

She turned toward the door. "I'll have those reports ready in a few moments, Captain."

Spock was already back to checking his databases and pulling up reports. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

_Finally, some hope!_

***

 

Jim found himself outside of Medbay. This time, he was in uniform and everyone around him was seemingly frozen in time. There was a crowd, people on the move, frozen in poses they couldn't have kept in real life. There was the smell of burnt electronics and stressed metal. Many of the crewmen around him showed signs of conflict and disaster. One that was still ongoing.

It looked like the ship had been at war and had flash frozen during one harried second of it.

He wove around the frozen crew, heading inside. Blinking, seeing the damage and the room full of medical technicians and Doctors crowded around biobeds, Jim realized where he had to be.

_This isn't the current Enterprise, but the one that Marcus tried to destroy. The one I died on._

Even before he wove through those crowded at the entrance, he could see the Hazmat team in their radiation-proof suits. He saw the sad and somber look on the faces of the crew around him. He knew what this scene was, and it wasn't _his_ memories he was seeing. He felt sick.

_When I died, and they brought my body to Medbay. To Bones._

He saw McCoy as he reached the inner circle of people standing around the gurney with the body bag.

McCoy was still, staring it like it held his own death and destruction.

For a second, Jim thought that McCoy was frozen in time as well. Until Jim saw a tear run down McCoy's face.

"Bones?" Jim said softly, coming up beside him. He carefully put a hand on McCoy's arm. He felt solid and real.

McCoy looked at him, blinking and wiping his face as he tried to process his surroundings. McCoy was clearly here, with him, but still caught in this horrible slice of time.

"It's _okay_. It's just a memory," Jim said softly. "It's _over_. I'm fine. You, Spock and Uhura saved me."

"It's never really over, though, is it?" McCoy asked quietly, his eyes back on the body bag. "It's going to happen again. Someday. You know, I'd rather unzip the damned thing and find myself inside. I don't want to find you in there again."

"You don't have to. Not this time," Jim said taking McCoy's arm and steering him back to the desk and the chair. "But I can't promise you something I can't deliver," Jim said sadly. "I can't predict the future. Wouldn't want to."

He got McCoy seated in the chair, the dead tribble on the table next to him. Jim squatted, looking up and into McCoy's eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see me that way. But you kept your head, got back to work for everyone else's sake, and brought me back. No one could have done any better. _No one_."

McCoy shook his head. "I was so angry with you, for those long moments when there was no hope. I didn't know _what_ you did, but knew _why_ you did it, at the cost of your own life." McCoy gave him a weak smile. "Always the same reason, isn't it? Always will be."

"I think so," Jim admitted. "And I know you'd have done the same thing, if you'd been there. We both have to be who we are. And I'll always be sorry if I hurt you. You know I'd never leave you on purpose."

McCoy sighed. "I know. It's not like you're suicidal, although sometimes you act like it. I'm just trying to learn to live with it."

Something came to Jim, then. Twice, the dreams they'd shared, where they were both real, had been about death. Maybe there was a reason for that.

"Bones? Am I dead? Or dying?"

McCoy winced. "Something's wrong. I can't really remember. I don't think you're dead, but hurt. Really, really hurt. I'm upset and worried that it's something I can't fix. There's pain. I remember you screaming and nothing was helping."

_Maybe I am insane. He must be frantic when he's not here with me. But if he can remember that much..._

"Always good news, the _not dead_ part," Jim said, giving McCoy a smile that wasn't returned. "We'll figure out the rest. Maybe, you can remember this when it's over."

"Remember you?" McCoy said with a huff. "Of course I will. What a stupid--"

"No, I mean _this_ scene, me talking to you. If this is really a dream we're sharing, and not some other strange thing that's bringing us together. Maybe you knowing I'm..." Jim waved his hand around "... here and feeling okay will help. You all can then figure out how to get me back."

"Okay," McCoy said, shutting his eyes for a second. He opened them suddenly them as if making sure Jim was still there. "I'll try. But don't _you_ remember what happened?"

"No. But we'll figure it out."

Jim stood and held out his hand. McCoy took it and let Jim pull him up and out of the chair. "Let's go somewhere else and talk, while we can," Jim suggested.

"No, I can't," McCoy said sadly, walking back to the body bag. "There's no outside for me. It's all in here. And no, I don't know how or why I know this."

McCoy reached up to unzip the bag. Jim caught his hand before he could do so.

" _No_ ," Jim said. "There's no point. I don't want you re-living it. Not now. Not ever."

McCoy didn't fight him. He dropped his hand.

"Like I said, I was so mad at you," McCoy said quietly, eyes closed. "I know how you died, and basically why. _'Saving the ship'_ , Scotty said. I also know you said goodbye to Spock. But you didn't stay to say goodbye to _me_. And the thing is, even if they'd called, I was elbow deep in another patient. I couldn't have left them to say goodbye to you. There wasn't anyone else to take over. And then, here you were. In that bag. Kahn's blood changed so much of what would have happened if he hadn't been there. I was going to have to certify your death. No autopsy, thank God. We were home. Starfleet would have taken you away, given you to some other doctor because they knew we were friends. I'd never have seen you again. And all those times I'd pushed you away. Drawn the line I didn't want you to cross?"

McCoy looked up from the body bag to Jim, regret in his eyes. "It didn't matter. If we'd been a couple then, back at the Academy and up until this happened? It wouldn't have hurt one iota more than it already did. Why didn't I realize that sooner?"

Jim shook his head and leaned over to wrap his arm around McCoy's shoulders. "I think you were right the first time. Bones, sometimes the better things in life actually happen when we're ready for them, and not before. None of our time was wasted, or chances lost. We were just... where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. Slow burns are good," Jim said with a smile.

McCoy chuckled weakly. "Or, we're both just too damn slow on the uptake to notice what's in front of us and act on it."

"Or that," Jim admitted. "We'll figure this out, Bones. There's something going on, but we'll get to the bottom of it.

McCoy sighed and looked back at the body bag. "I have to open it, Jim. I feel like I can't move on until I do."

_I don't want him to. But maybe he's right. We need to move on, so I can get that one step closer to home._

"Then, let me do it," Jim said. He reached for the zipper.

And the scene changed.

***

 

Leonard McCoy woke up with a start, blinking in the darkness. He was in bed. Without Jim. A jumble of memory demanding attention.

_What was it? It was important. I'm supposed to remember!_

He could feel the dream evaporate, and that scared him. He didn't know why.

_Damn it! I need to remember!_

"Computer! McCoy to Spock!"

It seemed to take forever for Spock to respond, although McCoy knew it must have barely been a minute.

"Spock here, Doctor."

"I had a dream, I need you to help me remember it."

"A dream, Doctor?"

"It's about Jim. I _need_ this. You need to come over and get it from me. _Please_."

***

 

Acting Captain Spock waited as the last of the crew he'd summoned entered the Ready Room. He signaled to all of them that they should sit. Sulu, Chekov, McCoy, and Uhura quickly took seats.

"As many of you now know, we have confirmed that the life on the planet communicates with chemicals, as well as their various combinations and reactions," Spock began. "And we believe that they attempted to communicate with the landing crew, which resulted in the deaths of the two crewmen and the injuries suffered by the Captain. At this time, we do not know if that communication was intended to be harmful, or a miscalculation of friendly signals by the indigenous life forms. We also do not know if this is a more involved intelligence or a primitive one. Since it seems that most of the signals are coming from underground, from one spot, it may be difficult to find out without subjecting ourselves to further harm."

"Will we be staying to find out?" Sulu asked. "I know we've moved to the outer edge of the system, but will we be going back for further study?"

"Because of its unique properties, and the possibility of First Contact, Starfleet will be sending a long-term study team. We will soon move on," Spock said.

"But, what about the Keptin?" Chekov asked worriedly. "Is he still unconscious?"

Spock nodded toward McCoy.

"After moving the ship away from the planet, we were able to take the Captain off of the brain-blocker. His pain levels are normal, and manageable for his condition. But we've hit another snag." McCoy shook his head tiredly. "Because of the pain, and the length he's been on the brain-blocker, his conscious mind is now locked off. His brain is handling his vital functions on its own, so he's off life support. But his higher functions aren't responding to outside stimulus."

"So, he's free from the planet's influence," Sulu said. "but he's... built up a shield in his mind, to protect himself? Like we were taught at the Academy, to keep from talking during torture?"

"Precisely," McCoy said. "But because of the chemical changes he went through while the planet, or whomever, tried to communicate with him, he made them blast proof. And we don't really know how to tell his consciousness that the outside world is safe again."

"But, he is still okay, in 'dere?" Chekov asked, tapping his head.

"We believe he's there," McCoy said, glancing at Spock. "And he's not suffering. But he's not sure what's going on, so he doesn't realize it's okay to come out."

"You've tried a mind meld and it didn't work?" Uhura asked.

"I have tried," Spock admitted. "But I am not strong enough. And there is not, at present, another telepath to help me."

"So, how can we help?" Sulu asked.

"Doctor McCoy and I believe that, if we were to link minds as a group, we could break through his block and appear to the Captain. We could then help the Captain figure out a way to release the blocks he has created, from the inside."

"So, one link with all of us?" Uhura asked with concern. "Won't that be difficult for you?"

"It's dangerous for him," McCoy said gravely. "But we may have no choice."

"The longer the Captain is blocked, the harder it will be for it to be undone," Spock added. "I believe the risk is worth freeing the Captain as soon as possible. There is always the chance that his condition may not be able to be corrected if it is prolonged."

"So, how do we do this?" Sulu asked.

"First, you must understand that this is a volunteer procedure only. You three have been asked here because the Doctor and I believe the Captain will be the most comfortable with your presence, rather than any other crewmen."

"I'm in," Sulu said, raising a hand.

"Me too!" Chekov exclaimed.

"Of course!" Uhura said, sounding surprised that there'd even been a question of her participating.

"Good. Another thing you must know is that I will not be able to complete a full meld with more than one person at a time. There is only so much information I can assimilate and process while communicating with the Captain. If we can even breach his blockade. While we each may be consciously aware of who we are, we may not be able to bring along the information pertaining to our assignment of contacting the Captain, nor our goal of getting him to release the block."

"I don't understand," Sulu said.

"It'll be like a dream," McCoy said. "Parts of it can feel real, others won't. And weird things can happen. We may not remember why we're there, or be able to control the outcome. It'll be Jim's dream, and we may just be along for the ride."

"So, we could get there and get... lost?" Chekov asked.

"It would not be a long-term investment of time," Spock said. "I can not keep such a connection up for more than a few minutes. But time sense in a dream state is deceptive. It may seem like hours, or even days, but we will eventually find the meld ending on its own. It may be a rather jarring exit, even in the best case scenario."

"Okay. But are you sure we can even get in there?" Sulu asked.

"It's possible," McCoy said reluctantly. "I'm pretty sure I've been hooking up with Jim on my own. When I sleep. I felt like Jim knew who I was during the dream, but his system had a shock when his brain stopped getting the signals from the planet. He may not remember who he is, let alone who we are, in this new state."

"How could you have been in contact with him?" Uhura asked with surprise

"You got me," McCoy said with a shrug. "I only remember the once fairly clearly, since Spock helped me retain some of the details before I lost them. But it could be a figment of my imagination."

"Since the Doctor and the Captain cohabitate," Spock added, "there may be a certain balance of body chemistry they have obtained between them. There is the old Terran belief that a bonded couple that ages together will grow more alike, rather than less. While there are no studies that I know of into such a phenomenon, there could exist evidence that this is true. Unfortunately, we can not know for sure that what the Doctor seems to have experienced was real. We can only try to release the Captain and let them compare notes at their leisure."

"Well, I'm ready," Sulu said with a hopeful smile. "Hook us up."

"Aye! I am ready as vell," Chekov said.

"Let's bring him home, gentlemen," Uhura said with a smile.

Soon, Spock was leading the four of them back to Medbay.

 

***

 

 

Jim Kirk's fingers just missed the branch of the old oak on his third jump at it. Thirteen now, he'd hoped he'd grown enough to manage it on his own.

_I can do this! I just need more of a running start. Maybe..._

He looked at the branch above him, his brain running through all his options. At more than two meters above the ground, it was a challenge. Still small for his age group, he _had_ grown a few centimeters. Sam used to boost him up, so he could reach it. But Sam had left, and Jim tried to avoid thinking about him anymore. He had to learn to do things by himself. Who else was left he could trust?

Backing up he took a running start, heading for the base of the tree. If he could get enough speed, and 'walk' up the tree like Sam showed him, he might be able to grab the base of the limb. Running as hard as he could, he pushed off against the trunk, reaching both hands to grab at the limb. He missed and fell backward, landing flat on the ground with a bone-jarring, jaw snapping thud. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. His mind ran through all kinds of scenarios that would allow him to get to the top of that branch without a ladder, so he could climb to the top. All without Sam's help.

"Y'all not gonna get up there that way," a voice with a southern accent drawled from behind him.

Jim sat up and turned to look. Sitting casually with his back against another tree, an older kid about Sam's age watched him. His black hair was a little long, falling into hazel eyes full of amusement. He was dressed like Jim, in grey sweats and athletic shoes. It took Jim a second to realize he knew the guy. He couldn't quite remember how they knew each other, or when they'd met, but it felt like McCoy had always been there. Jim just hadn't been paying attention.

"I can _do_ it!" Jim said shortly, reaching out to brush the dirt out of his hair. "I just need enough speed, so I can run high enough up the trunk--"

"Why can't y'all just get a _ladder_?" McCoy asked, eyebrow rising up into the dark bangs and bow-shaped lips twisting in a smirk. "You _know_ that's what they're for, right?"

Jim took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. McCoy didn't understand. "Because I don't _need_ one. I can _do_ this."

It wasn't McCoy's fault he didn't understand. Getting a ladder would mean asking Frank, his step-dad. Jim was never going to ask him for anything, ever again.

"I do not believe you are correct," another voice came from the side. Glancing over, Jim saw another guy, but this one was a Vulcan. He, too, was dressed in gray and was around McCoy's age. It took Jim a few seconds to remember Spock's name. "You do not have the reach."

"Can't he just back up further?" A lilting voice came from the other side of a large bush. A girl Jim's age strode out from behind the bush, kicking at last year's leaves and this year's weeds. She too, was dressed in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. Her long, black hair swinging behind her in a pony-tail. Uhura looked up, saw the others looking at her and shrugged. "He's got the room."

"It is possible," the Spock agreed. "If he can work up the necessary speed over a longer distance. It will, of course, depend on his strength and --"

"He's been doing this for a while," McCoy said. "He's tired."

Jim stood up and brushed the dirt off of his back and rear. He honestly didn't know if he could run faster than he had before. "Give me a minute and I can try again."

"That limb is on the downhill side," said another boy. Jim turned to see Sulu, who was also around his age and dressed in gray. Sulu stood next to the tree, looking at the base, hands on hips as he studied the situation. Sulu shook his head. "I know the other limbs are higher up, but if he ran from the uphill side to get more speed--"

"The angle ees wrong." A small boy, about four years old, was kneeling and scratching math problems in the dirt. His blond-brown curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to examine his work. "He vould not gain enough momentum from starting on that side, since the angle of the hill is very mild. Not enough to giff him enough of a boost to make up for the extra height of the limb."

"Yes," Spock said, studying the angle. "I believe Chekov is correct."

"Which brings me back to my original question," McCoy said with a roll of his eyes. "Why not just get a _ladder_?"

"It's cheating." Jim shook his head. "I _have_ to do this on my own, or it won't work. I just need to figure it out."

McCoy stood up, brushed the dirt from his ass, and walked over to stand next to Spock.

"Okay, _new_ question," McCoy said, craning his head to look up through the tangled branches. " _Why_ do you need to climb the tree? You know what'll happen if you fall. You'll break something. Maybe more than one something if you get high enough."

Jim walked over to them, resisting the urge to stand on his tip-toes because the other two were so much taller. McCoy rubbed at his collarbone and look worried. Jim remembered that McCoy had hurt it somehow, because of a fall. Jim just couldn't remember the details.

"It hurts," McCoy continued. "A lot. You could even die."

"Maybe because I _have_ to climb it," Jim said with exasperation. "I _need_ to get up there, to the top. It's _important_. And you won't let me die. _Duh_."

"Not on purpose," McCoy said softly, looking troubled. "But I'm not a magician."

Sulu walked up to them, as did Uhura and Chekov. They all looked upwards.

"Leonard is right," Spock said. "If you should make it to the top, the fall could prove fatal."

" _Life_ is fatal, Spock, even if you just sit home for years and wait it out," Jim said with a shrug. "I'm not waiting it out. I need to get up there."

"Well, if you're going..." McCoy said reluctantly, rubbing his collarbone again. "I guess I'd better go too."

"I want to go," Uhura chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest, looking determined.

"So do I," Sulu added with a grin.

"Me too! Me too!" Chekov said, jumping up and down excitedly and holding up his hand.

"I do believe this tree merits more exploration," Spock said casually, but Jim could see that he was excited at the idea as well.

Jim sighed. "Well, we're not going anywhere if I can't even get to the bottom branch."

"You said no ladder, right?" Sulu asked.

Jim nodded. There was nothing back at that house he could trust now that Sam had left.

"Well, can't _we_ give you a boost?" Sulu asked with a smile.

Jim looked at Sulu with surprise as the others nodded their heads.

_Why didn't I think of that? Sam helped me before. We can all help each other._

"Okay, we'll all go together. Spock, you're taller, so you can boost me up. Then boost Sulu, Uhura up and the three of us can help McCoy up.  Then hand up Chekov. Then we all can pull you up." Jim went over to Chekov and bent over to look him in the eyes. "I know it's not how you want to do this, kid, but I think you should let Spock carry you piggy back all the way to the top. He's the strongest, and those tree limbs are awful far apart in places."

"It's not fair," Chekov said with a sigh. "I'm _always_ going to be the youngest."

"I know, Pavel. But one day we'll all be old and gray and be so jealous of you it won't be funny," Jim said with a smile and a quick touselling of Chekov's curls before the kid could object. He turned back to the others. "All ready to go? Then let's do this."

Standing under the branch, Spock grabbed Jim by the hips and held him up far enough that Jim could finally reach the branch. Climbing up on his own, he straddled it and smiled at those below. "Okay, everyone in order."

It took a couple of minutes for everyone to get up. He waited until he saw everyone was ready to continue the climb, with Chekov clinging to Spock's back.

"Follow me," Jim ordered, eyes upward as he picked out his next move among the many branches. "Watch out for those above and below you. Call out if you need help."

"Yes, Sir!" they answered.

Jim reached for the next branch. They all climbed in quiet for a while, only the sounds of their breathing and occasional grunts could be heard. Jim could only see bits and pieces of the landscape outside of the tree, the leaves crowding them and cutting them off from the outside world. He didn't know how long they'd been climbing when he came to what he knew was the uppermost branch that could support them. He could feel they were very high up now, but Jim couldn't see anything but a thick tapestry of green around him. He knew the branch was odd because it was as thick as all the branches below them, which didn't make sense. At the end of the branch, Jim could see a gold, glowing light. He straddled the branch and pulled himself along, away from the trunk. Now closer to the light, he could see it was a glowing crystal, about the size of an acorn.

Somehow, he knew it was what he'd been climbing to reach, and that the goal was to touch it.

Sliding close, he could feel the branch start to dip down under his weight, so he stopped.

_I need to touch it,_ Jim thought, not really knowing how he knew that. It wasn't anything he'd ever seen before, but he somehow felt it was the goal. And that if he did so, he'd win. _What_ he'd win, he didn't know.

Sulu and Uhura were just now pulling themselves up to his limb. Jim could feel the branch dip even more. He held up his hand.

"Wait, guys!"

"Jim?" Spock called. "I believe it unlikely that the branch can safely take our combined weight."

"He's right," McCoy said worriedly. "It's already dipping pretty low with just you three. I don't think Spock and I can even get on it at the same time."

_I could leave them behind,_ Jim thought, feeling pulled toward the acorn-sized light. _I could just go. They could all climb down and.... and... go home?_

He wasn't sure they could get home once he left. And he couldn't leave them here with Frank. Not like Sam and his Mom had left him.

_But if they all try to follow the branch will break and we'll all get hurt. There has to be a way. There's always a way..._

" _We_ can do this," Jim said loudly, his mind going over all the possibilities. "Sulu, Uhura, can you help Chekov move in front of you both?"

"I think so," Uhura replied scooting back to the trunk. "Sulu and I can pull him up."

Sulu and Uhura lay down on the limb, tightened their holds on it with one arm while reaching down with the other. Spock handed the child to McCoy, who boosted him up to Uhura and Sulu. Between the three of them, they got Chekov to the higher limb.

"Okay," Jim said, "help him come forward, then scoot back as far as you can."

Uhura and Sulu carefully helped the small child pass in front of them. As they move backward, so did Jim. When Chekov had moved in front of Sulu, Jim turned and helped Chekov climb over him to sit in the front. During the process, the branch dipped up and down dangerously as they shifted weight. Looking back, Jim could see that unless they were all on the same branch, they wouldn't be able to all reach each other. The ones on the lower limb would then be left behind.

"Jim?" McCoy called up to him, sounding nervous. "That branch is starting to give. I can hear it cracking near the trunk."

"Leonard is correct," Spock called up. "You can not stay there much longer."

"Spock? McCoy? Between you two, who weighs the most?"

"I do," Spock said.

"Okay, give me a second!" Jim, holding on to Chekov's shoulder, leaned close. "Listen, Pavel, you need to wait until we're all holding hands and then you touch the light."

"Then we can leave?" The young boy asked happily.

"Yes," Jim replied. "But we all have to be connected or someone will get left behind. Wait until I tell you."

"Da," Chekov said with a nod. "I vill vait."

"McCoy, you climb up, but stay as near the trunk as you can. Just close enough to Uhura to hold on to her."

"I don't know, Jim," McCoy said reluctantly. "Maybe one of us should stay. That thing breaks, this height'll almost certainly be fatal. I can stay if I have to."

" _No one_ is staying," Jim said with determination. "Just stay as close to the trunk as you can. Guys," Jim said to those behind him, "lets stretch out as far as we can to keep most of our weight near the trunk."

It bothered Jim that he wasn't the one to touch the light. It was _his_ light, after all. But he couldn't leave anyone behind. What would be the point of winning if he lost his friends?

Everyone watched, breaths held. McCoy jumped and pulled himself up to the next branch, Spock giving him a helpful boost. Then, carefully, McCoy scooted slightly forward. The branch once again dipped dangerously.

"Okay,  _another_ quick question," McCoy said as he scooted back far enough that his back was against the trunk. The end of the branch raised up again. They were safe for a moment, but there was no room for Spock and he couldn't quite reach Uhura. "Does it have to be hands, or just appendages?"

"I... I don't know," Jim said reluctantly when no answer came to him.

"Well, can't hurt to test it out," McCoy said, toeing off his gray canvas shoes and letting them drop to the ground. He leaned back and stretched his right leg along the branch and let the other dangle down to Spock. Uhura leaned back and grabbed McCoy's bare foot.

The branch didn't move, but popping noises came from its connection to the trunk. They were running out of time.

"Spock, grab his foot! Chekov, when I say 'now', touch the light."

"Da!" Chekov said, leaning forward toward the light, his hand held up.

"Everyone, hang on tight!" Jim leaned back, one hand on Chekov's shoulder, and reached for Sulu's hand. Sulu grabbed Uhura's. As soon as Spock grabbed McCoy's foot Jim could feel a connection between them.

"Now!" Jim yelled.

And as Chekov touched the glowing light, the world flash bright around him, blinding him to everything. Jim had only a fraction of a second to wonder if it'd worked.

 

***

 

Leonard McCoy sat close to the head of Jim's biobed, eyes on the readings. They were right where they should be, signaling a mind that was aware and active, if not drowsy from the painkillers he still needed for a day or so. Now, to just wake him up enough to get him to respond, so the team outside the private room and down the hall could compare his lucid readings with those of the past ten days. Then he could go back to sleep and have proper dreams, the kind that meant the brain was busy processing and rejuvenating itself for the next wakeful period.

_Thank God, the link worked,_ McCoy thought with relief. _If he'd been trapped in there too much longer, he could have come out with any of assortment of mental issues. If we could have even gotten the shields down._   _He's strong as hell._

It had been a bit of a shock, coming out of the link, as Spock had warned. Everyone had felt a little dazed, and most of the others just remembered bits and pieces of what they'd seen in Jim's mind. With the exception of him, and maybe Spock. Spock, having reached the limits of his abilities, had had to be left to meditate alone in his quarters in order to re-build his defenses. Sulu, Chekov and Uhura had come out of it a little woozy, but had excitedly discussed the bits and pieces they'd remembered. McCoy knew for sure that he remembered the whole scene, from beginning to end.

And being there had jolted his own memories. He now remembered being with a young Jim on the roof, and what Jim had told him of his childhood. And Jim trying to keep him from reliving his mother's death. And the Medbay with Jim's dead body... McCoy had hoped to never revisit that scene again, and there it was.

_I hope he remembers those as well. There are some things we need to talk about, someday. And I need him to know how much it means to have him in those memories. Maybe now, when I look back on them, he'll always be there, overwriting the old ones. Those are bits of him no one else will ever have, and that I will never lose._

Jim grunted and twitched as he tried to wake. The skin on Jim's back was strong and healthy enough that he could lie in bed on it. So, when Jim finally opened his eyes in the dimmed light, McCoy's face would be the first thing he saw. McCoy reached up and placed a hand on Jim's bald head. In a few days they'd wash away the hair inhibitor and let it start to grow back. Then they could be sure that McCoy had gotten Jim's hairline on the left side correct. Those cells had to be programmed by hand, to match what hairline had been burnt off. Give him a few months, and McCoy hoped that no casual observers would be able to tell he had lost a whole ear, over half the skin on his head, cheek and half of one eyebrow, along with all the rest.

The hand on his head seemed to push Jim over the edge. McCoy smiled at Jim as he opened bleary eyes.

" _There_ you are," McCoy said, "How're you feeling?"

"Is everyone okay? Did we all get home?"

McCoy blinked. _Is he remembering the mind meld, or the accident?_

"Did we get home from where?" McCoy asked softly.

"The tree... we... were all climbing... the big tree behind the house."

"Sure," he said with a pat to Jim's rebuilt cheek. "We're all fine. It all worked out okay."

"Good. Good," Jim said drowsily.

"But how are _you_ feeling?" McCoy asked, watching closely as Jim examined his surroundings and processed the information.

Jim looked at him for a moment, then around the room. "You're smiling. I must be okay," he said sluggishly.

"Don't be cute," McCoy huffed. "Third times the charm, I guess. _How are you feeling_?"

"I can't help but be cute," Jim said with a lopsided smile. Then he looked down at his hands and raised them. "What's wrong with my face? My hands? I'm stiff all over."

"It's new skin and muscle. Do you remember the accident?"

Jim frowned. The new muscles on that side of his face weren't quite keeping up. That wasn't unexpected.

"I remember beaming down, on the survey team. The signal we picked up... then... I'm not sure."

"That's okay. You can catch up later."

"I've been asleep?" Jim looked a bit confused. "I remember so many weird things."

"You've been dreaming," McCoy told him. "You may remember some of it later, when you're less medicated. You may not. We'll see."

"And I going to be okay?" Jim asked, not looking too concerned.

"You'll be fine. We've fixed you right up."

Jim raised one hand, and new muscles in weak fingers made them twitchy as he touched his head. "There's a draft. Am I bald?"

"It'll grow back," McCoy promised.

Jim laughed drowsily. "I must look stupid. I tried it once and it didn't work for me."

"I made sure it'll grow back," McCoy assured him. The monitor said Jim was drifting back toward natural sleep. "Time to sleep some more, Jim."

"Okay. Crawl in."

McCoy chuckled. "Not in here, Kid. You'll have a special bed for one for a while. But don't worry, if you need me, I'll be here."

"Okay," Jim said pleasantly. His eyes started to slide shut. "Bones? Don't you wish we could _fly_? Like the Xendi and Skorr do?"

_At least he remembers part of that dream. The one on the roof._

"Fly all you want, Peter Pan," McCoy said gently, putting Jim's hands back across his chest, watching as Jim slipped easily into real, true, sleep. "We'll all be here when you grow up."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as bits and pieces I'd written, where I wanted to explore more of their past. Nothing seemed to branch off on its own, until I had the idea of Jim being trapped in his dreams, and an idea (which may or may not work, outside my own head.) on how to get McCoy there. There were a lot of scenes from their past I could have revisited, but these are the ones that felt important. Others will come up in the next story.
> 
> As always I'm fixing things, in all of them. Later copies are probably the better ones.
> 
> And just a note... Jim's homemade digital clock is seen in his room in "Into Darkness", the bit with the two Caitian girls and Jim in his bed. I'm sure he's got it in storage, somewhere. ; )


End file.
